I don’t always put my shirt on backwards, but when I do, I stand at the SBux counter joking with the baristas and thinking “damn, I am EXTRA funny today, they can’t stop laughing!”
Then notice 2 hours later in bathroom mirror.
The ruffles go in front, yo.
Just Sayin’.
Reclining on the sofa in front of the Today Show as Jr. (miraculously,) sleeps in allowing my to drink an entire cup of weekend-so-creamer-allowed coffee, I find myself overwhelmed.
Extra day off = chance to do ANYTHING. A little hike in the foothills? (Risky – traffic coming out of them thar hills will be a bitch.)
Shopping and lunch with Jr.? (Labor Day sales hounds scare me a little, and we are in a toddler-grab-everything phase.)
Pool day; Taste of Colorado; Splash pad; Zoo; Tiny Town; Picnic at the park; Museum of Nature and Science; Aquarium; Tattered Cover Books – THE MIND REELS!!
Woooo. Plotting a free day is shockingly exhausting.
:::::Blowing up baby pool::::::
Let’s just run around the back yard and toss some stuff on the grill, k? (Just let me rest for a minute.)
The Mr. “doesn’t nap.”
He has been “not napping” for about 40 minutes now.
Also, “not napping” seems to involve softly snoring, in case you are trying to determine if you might be witnessing “not napping” in your own world.
Just Sayin’.
If complementing a fabulous weekday lunch involving a fabulous friend with the perfect cocktail at noon-thirty is wrong, I have absolutely no interest in being right.
None.
Just Sayin’.
We are the “grown ups.”
The parties currently responsible for the pint sized person in our world.
This is a legal fact.
So WHY do conversations with Jr go like this:
Jr: “You take the ba-ket ball. I take the special ball.”
Me: “why do you always get the special balls?”
::::eye contact with The Mr.::::::
Me: “heh heh Special Balls. Heh heh”
The Mr.: “you said Special Balls. Heh heh heh.”
Sorry your parents are Bevis and Butthead, Jr.
You’re in charge now.
Just Sayin’.
Wherever you go, there you are. You’ve been warned.
Reluctantly Suburban